Accessory
by Sir Politic Am-Be
Summary: If Ponyville were a real place populated by real people, this is how it would be possible. The girls live ordinary lives with ordinary problems. Money, food, sleep, and, of course, men are also worth some thought when good for the effort.
1. Chapter 1

_Forward_

_ The following fic may require some explanation, so read here before proceeding. The essential detail to know is that My Little Pony has generated a surprising amount of romance writing. People love to combine the characters, riding with them on their ups and downs, but often the approach is somewhat clumsy. The characters will have loved each other all along. They don't daydream about other prospective candidates, they don't explore their options – rather, they are merely compelled to seek out one partner, and they confess their feelings in one sticky, gooey, emotional climax._

_ Seeing this done time and again, I began to wonder about it. Clearly there's something there about the characters that makes them attractive, or else the show wouldn't have generated so many young male fans. But what, and why? Further, there must be a way to explore these qualities without simply diving head first into the shallow end of a romance. That's called pornography in most circles._

_ So this fic began. Its intent is to do exactly what the show does: explore relationships and their meaning, from the cherished highs to the repugnant lows. However, to do this the characters needed to be human. We communicate too much with our eyes, hands, postures and otherwise to go without the human form when our tale requires close attention to courtship rituals. With the human bodies, then, I chose human names; although Rarity may be a cute name for a pony, for a human girl it's a stage name, not something I might name my daughter._

_ Along with these two evils, I must yet name a third: an original character. For a good romance, from conception to consummation, we require someone fresh. Someone we don't know, so that we can develop our first impressions, then try madly to ascertain what we are to the other person. Where does the dominance lay? Who is chased and who is pursued, and if there is no chase, then why?_

_ Rest assured that the My Little Pony universe is there, however much it has matured. Dash still flies, but human beings need to find ways to pay for their planes. Applejack runs her farm, but work is never done for a small family. Rarity runs her boutique, Spike still fawns over her, Twilight still writes about relationships. It's all there, simply in a different form, researched such that, if Ponyville and all its inhabitants could exist in the real world, this is how it would be done._

_ So if you've read this far and still trust me, by all means take my hand and we'll proceed from here. If not, then such is life, and rejection is sadly just a part of the human experience. If you feel you must absolutely know which characters are which to enjoy the story, then the following guide will help you along:_

_Abigail is Applebloom._

_Anne Jane (Usually shortened to AJ) is Applejack._

_Faith is Fluttershy._

_Granny Smith is Granny Smith._

_Maxwell (Usually just called Mac) is Big Macintosh_

_Pepper is Pinkie Pie._

_Rochelle (which conveniently means "little rock", by the way) is Rarity._

_Rae is Rainbow Dash._

_Sarah is Scootaloo._

_Spencer is Spike._

_Susane is Sweetiebelle._

_Tabitha is Twilight Sparkle._

Accessory

Faith hated parties. She hated noise, she hated bright lights, she hated mingling with strangers, and worst of all she hated the idea that someone might notice she hated it. It was a small town, though, so that meant every time there was a party she had to go, and every time she went she did the same thing. It was exactly what she was doing now: she waited in the corner like a wallflower, a mildly alcoholic drink in one hand, her hair clutched nervously in the other.

A man brushed past her, politely placing a hand on her shoulder as he did so. Faith apologized for being in the way. She'd lived here for several years and still didn't properly recognize half the faces in the room, but most people had gotten used to her as a kind of living, breathing obstacle. It wasn't that she didn't try – it was just that not everyone wanted to talk to her. Between all the colorful lights, the noise, the snacks, and the liquor, there were more interesting things to do.

Faith made eye contact with someone as they passed her by. It was the young boy from the grocer, who Faith was several years older than. He spotted Faith standing there, but it looked like he had some other thought in mind, and he was looking a bit beyond her. She quickly averted her eyes, taking a sip from her wine cooler, pretending she'd only caught his glance by accident. He nodded as he passed her, then vanished into the crowd.

Faith exhaled. She hated parties so much. She never had any fun. She glanced furtively around, looking for one of her few close friends, hoping nobody would notice. The point was to meet new people, and she felt wrong for trying to avoid it. With little effort, she picked her friend Pepper out of the crowd. She was the one with the bouncy, red hair, the one who was surrounded by other people, the one who was essentially the life of the party.

She was talking to, well, everyone, more or less. Pepper was a popular lady, and although they were close, she and Faith often clashed - frequently without Pepper even realizing it. Faith held dozens of secret grudges against the girl, but was friends with her all the same because Pepper was the only one who forced Faith out of the house every now and then. Even now Pepper was giggling and laughing, probably under the assumption that Faith was enjoying herself somewhere. Pepper put her hand on the chest of a man, looking at him while she chortled at some joke she had told, no doubt to herself.

Faith didn't recognize the man, though. He wasn't just a face without a name, but somebody she'd never seen before. He was wearing a nice shirt, freshly pressed. His hair was neatly combed, and he was carrying some kind of dark cocktail. He was a little on the cute side.

Someone poked Pepper in the back. She shrieked in mock terror, then turned around to face the aggressor, only to embrace the person in a chuckling, screaming hug. Then, guided by that ancestral force, some prickling hairs on the neck that tell when one is being watched, the cute man turned his head and looked at Faith.

It wasn't just a casual glance. Faith was a turtle just realizing the shadow overhead was the kind of hawk that sweeps turtles up and drop them on rocks. Or in short, utterly defenseless, and also a little green, but that may have been the wine cooler. The look was direct, piercing, like he'd been trying to catch her attention all night, and now that their eyes met he didn't look away.

Faith's heart raced. She had no idea what to do next. She remembered, vaguely, something about visiting a zoo and there being a warning not to look directly into the eyes of the gorillas.

_Blink!_ her mind urged, desperately.

She did, then looked at her feet. Now that she was being watched, she sought for something to keep herself occupied. Faith went to sip from her cup of wine cooler. It was empty. Faith pretended to sip from it anyway, but only stumbled through the pantomime half-heartedly. Still in a panic, she flicked her eyes to see if the man was looking.

He wasn't. Pepper had pulled his attention away again. She was assaulting him with some story now, one that required a lot of wild gesticulation. The man was smiling and nodding along politely. He seemed to be intently focused on whatever Pepper was saying, but wasn't getting much in edge-wise. Faith waited to see if he'd look back at her again, but he didn't.

Faith's heart settled, or maybe even sank. She wasn't sure which. A moment ago she'd wanted to flee like a wild hare, and now she was slowly dialing back into wallflower mode. With the sense of impending doom passed, she didn't know which feeling she actually preferred, but she decided moving around was better than standing uncertainly in one place.

Faith spent the rest of the party in a modest haze. She was feeling a little tipsy, but also so because her mind was glued to what had just happened. Had that guy noticed her before? Across the room without Faith realizing? He wouldn't look at a girl for the first time that way, would he? Faith milled about, listening in on conversations, then wandering off with her mind whenever it took her. Every now and then she glanced over her shoulder to look for that man, if only to see if he was looking at her again.

Once or twice she spotted him, but he seemed intent on other things. Other people. Usually he was just listening to someone or injecting minor commentary here or there. Nothing unusual. Maybe Faith had just imaged that glint in his eye. He'd startled her, so she'd seen a snake in the shadows when all she'd tripped over was a garden hose. If she had a dime for every time that had happened, she'd have at least twenty cents this week alone.

The party began to die down in the early morning, and people started to go home. Faith was seated outside on the balcony. Usually she left any social event as soon as someone else did, making some excuse about bedtimes, but tonight she wasn't in the mood to go straight to bed all alone. By now she was mulling over the idea of meeting someone at a party – having a look like that turn into something. She pictured how things would go if she had a little more confidence, but the ideas were sad fantasies.

And as Faith sat there, dreamily plotting her fictional romantic ascension, her imagination strode out onto the balcony in full color and high definition. The Man with the Look gave Faith a cursory glance, then sat across from her with a mild grunt, his dark cocktail still in hand. The wind carried a faint fragrance over to Faith's side of the balcony. All her carefully laid fantasy plans flew from her brain like a flock of clumsy pigeons.

Faith tried not to look at him directly, then pleaded with herself not to act nervous. The latter was meeting a great deal of internal resistance, and the more she fought the urge to be stiff and awkward, the worse it felt. Was her hair okay? Did her shirt have any stains? She checked the man, who was quite calmly star-gazing. He hadn't seemed to notice she was freaking out in the slightest.

Their eyes met again, twice actually because Faith looked away at first, but this time he seemed calm. Relaxed. After a brief pause, he went back to star-gazing, gently tapping his foot on the wood floorboards. Faith eventually followed his gaze upward. The pulse of the music was still emanating from inside. It was a nice night. Gradually but surely, all those little pigeons came back to roost.

Regaining the thread of her imagination, Faith started thinking of how she'd like this to go. Maybe he'd ask her to dance, and she'd say yes, except Faith didn't really know how to dance and she'd probably be way too nervous. He looked her way again, noticing her staring. Faith smiled, and the man smiled warmly back at her. Then he cast his eyes to the stars again, tapping his foot, sipping from his drink.

He seemed nice. Faith felt a little glow when he smiled at her, and that smile was still there on his face as he gazed out into the distance. Faith kept on smiling too. She didn't know what to do next. Why wouldn't he talk to her? Was he shy? Maybe he'd come out here to talk to her, but once he got here he got nervous and didn't know what to say. That meant they were both just sitting out here across from each other like flustered birds. The wind kicked up, bringing another fresh sample of the light scent he was wearing.

"Um, my name is Faith," Faith decided, quietly, out loud. She'd nearly rubbed brain cells together for that one.

The man waited a few seconds, still smiling lightly, probably to see if Faith had anything else to add. She didn't.

"That's very pretty," he complimented.

Faith blushed. She clutched at her hair and looked away from him. Oh god, he was going to think she had brain problems.

"Th- Thank you," she managed, her voice wavering.

The man smiled a little wider, then went back to examining the night sky. Faith regained her composure after him. She tried to think of some way she could break the ice a little better. Start a conversation. She wasn't used to being the aggressive side of things. She wasn't even much used to the passive side of things. It was harder than she thought.

"I'm one of Pepper's friends," Faith offered, remembering that she'd seem him with the other girl earlier.

The man nodded. He he drew his attention to her, as if this were the beginning of a captivating conversation topic.

"An old friend, really. I met her right after her gramma died," Faith explained.

"Really," the man replied. "I hadn't heard about that."

"Yeah, she was really old," Faith finished. "Her grandmother, not Pepper," she backpedaled, forcefully willing herself not to titter.

She wasn't tittering at the dead grandmother. Faith was sniggering at her depressingly terrible exposition – or maybe because of how nervously she felt or because she'd had a little to much to drink. She'd started with an intro, carried into a body, then ended in a conclusion, all of which culminated into somebody's dead grandma. It was the world's shortest story with the least amount of information. Not exactly an award winner. This was awful.

The man rolled his head back and chuckled softly.

"Oh yeah," he agreed, reverentially. "That one's a killer."

Faith grinned, which was easy enough since her body was already trying to force it.

"Nobody ever seems to get better from old," she added, catching speed that he'd mistaken her bumbling for cleverness, however dark.

They both exchanged small laughs. The man sighed and checked his watch.

"It's getting late," he resigned.

Faith frowned. She hadn't even gotten the man's name yet. She didn't know if she'd see him around town at all, but she'd just made progress. Really terrible progress involving Pepper's dead grandmother, but still progress. She wasn't ready to see him go yet – at least not on that note.

"Well, not honestly," the man continued, glancing through the doors into the house. "But I've had enough lights and noise for one evening."

Faith nodded emphatically. She knew exactly what he meant.

"The only problem is, I seem to have lost track of my hostess, and I have no idea how to get back to where I'm staying," he confessed.

It sounded suspiciously like a line. The thought of inviting the man back to her home for the evening flashed briefly across Faith's mind, but she squashed that thought immediately. It was much too forward. There was no way. Faith wasn't out for a one night stand, anyway.

"Oh, where are you staying?" she asked instead.

"At a lovely little apple orchard on the outskirts of town," the man explained.

"Is that Sweet Apple Acres?" Faith inquired, knowing full well there must not be another orchard for miles.

"That's the place," the man agreed.

"Another one of my close friends owns that farm," Faith provided, a little pleased with the coincidence.

The pigeons that ran the creative part of Faith's mind, and indeed a few other branches and divisions, began signaling to each other, drawing lines between the dots of chance and the arrangements of the constellations.

"That sweet old woman?" the man asked.

"AJ isn't that old," Faith replied, smiling sardonically, having slighted her young friend.

The man drew a wide, smirking grin. He leaned forward.

"Well, and here I took you for one of the quiet ones!" he accosted.

He rose from his seat, motioning for the girl to join him. She did, and he took her by the arm before proceeding to walk out of the house with her. For the first time ever, Faith was actually leaving a party with a guy on her arm. Okay, she was basically just giving directions, but it was like a moment of triumph, one which was predominantly spent staring at her feet.

"So what do you do around here, Faith?" the man asked his new companion as they left the doorstep.

He pointed in a direction he presumed was the farm, which Faith corrected.

"I'm a vet," she liberally expounded.

"Seems like a small town for veterinary work," the man observed.

Faith shook her head.

"A lot of people keep pets around here, and the farms always keep steady business," she explained.

"Don't tell me you castrate the bulls!" the man asked, feigning shock.

Faith nodded, smiling. She didn't look at him. He was teasing.

"Goodness," the man commented severely.

It was something about the way he said it that suddenly made Faith feel supremely embarrassed she'd told him that. She felt the hotness creeping into her face like a volcanic geyser. She clasped her hands over her shame, hiding, plodding blindly along aside the man as he lead. She could feel him looking at her like this, and the heat only radiated outward that much more fiercely.

He dragged her along some ways, and when she could bear to look at him again he was still obviously quite pleased with himself. They walked in silence for a while, long enough for him to start staring into space. He looked contented, but a bit serious all the same. Faith had meant to ask him about himself, but now they'd slipped into quietly enjoying the night together.

They were still roughly fifteen minutes from the farm, and Faith's mind began to wander too. Together, they were both traveling along the road, completely checked out of reality. She didn't know what her male escort – or perhaps she was the escort, she wasn't sure – was thinking, but she had pigeons on the mind again. They are, admittedly, somewhat dirty birds.

For one thing, it occurred to her exactly what was happening. Faith could certainly wander around at night, but it was simply unusual for a lady to walk a man home only to see herself across town by her lonesome. This man, whose name she really needed to ask, seemed polite enough. She'd be extremely disappointed if he said a goodbye at his own doorstep.

That meant that he'd either go well out of his way to walk her all the way back to her own home, or he planned to have her stay the evening. The first possibility seemed like a lot of hassle, and it did seem _awfully convenient_ that he'd forgotten how to get to the orchard. She became a little frightened at the prospect of the second possibility. For one, she hardly knew this man – no, she didn't know this man! For another, she wasn't even remotely prepared for this sort of thing.

It crossed Faith's mind that she'd have no idea what to do. She had no real experience with the opposite gender, and this loomed over her further with each step closer to the farm. She also hadn't color coordinated her underwear. She wasn't sure it was a reasonable concern because it certainly wouldn't matter anyway, but she worried if he saw she'd come to a party wearing mismatched undergarments then he'd just know for sure that men didn't think to take her home very often.

He was also dressed rather nice. A bit of cologne or something to add some spice, a nice watch, and well groomed too. Faith was just wearing a sweater and a skirt, not out to impress. And then there was the underwear thing again too: they were a bit on the worn and fuzzy side. It wasn't like people saw them very often, she hadn't thought it would matter! What if he thought she was pudgy? What if it turned out he was secretly her long lost brother! She'd never seen him before, who could say?

When they finally reached the farm, Faith's heart was flapping to rival a hummingbird. She'd decided that if he offered to let her stay the night, she'd agree, but she'd go to see her friend AJ to ask for a spare room. That way everything would be nice and nobody would get offended, and nobody would ever know her bra was the wrong color, especially not someone who was accidentally her brother.

"Well, here we are," the man surmised.

Faith waited. This was it. Whatever he did next, she had a swiftly raveled plan for it. She looked at him, and he looked at her. He glanced about in the darkness.

"I think we've made a grave error," he said. "Do you mind if I walk you home?"

At this point, Faith had to be honest with herself. She'd planned for everything that required her to shield the reality of her underwear from the world, including answering riddles from a sphinx under pain of death. She'd considered this alternate, non-underwear probability, but hadn't actually come up with a plan of action. She could still offer to get AJ's help, but now she felt like she'd be imposing.

"It's okay, you don't have to," Faith improvised.

"I insist," the man replied, cordially.

"No really, I know my way around town," Faith replied softly, beginning to feel a little silly about the Greek tragedy fears. "It's a safe area."

"It's no problem at all," the man persisted.

He took Faith by the hand and tugged gently at it, gesturing away from the farm as he searched her face.

"Okay," Faith faltered, smooth criminal that she was.

They turned the other way and headed back towards Faith's home, which was clear on the other side of town. Faith was feeling a little fuzzy inside. She was holding his arm again, but he'd taken her by the hand just a moment ago. It was a little like walking around with a knight. Well, not a knight, but at least a nice guy who was very polite and treated Faith like a pretty lady.

"You look rather young to be a vet," the man observed, "isn't that a medical program?"

"Yes," Faith replied, answering both questions at once and punctuating the answer with a little distress.

She averred her eyes to the dirt road. She didn't like to talk about her schooling. It had been a lot of stress, and plenty of people around town didn't have degrees. Her friend AJ was very smart, but the orchard was the family business. It made Faith feel guilty.

"I used to have a lot of interest in the sciences," the man said, changing the subject. "It doesn't do me a whole lot of good these days, though."

"Oh? What did you study?" Faith asked.

"A little of everything," he replied. "I was pretty aimless in college."

That was too bad, Faith thought. Maybe he hadn't done so well. They walked together in silence for a while. The light was dim, and Faith had to gently tug her companion whenever they needed a turn. Faith blamed herself for dropping the ball on her end of the conversation. She'd left her new friend in a bit of a rut as far as topics were concerned.

"I skipped a grade in high school," Faith confided, trying to seem more friendly, "and I also took some advanced placement courses. Just to get ahead. Most people don't think to."

"You must be very smart," her companion suggested.

"No," Faith plied, shyly, certain that if he'd been bad at school then she'd hurt him somehow. "Mine was a shorter degree than human medicine anyway."

"No, really," he insisted, trying to meet Faith's eyes. "I wish I'd had that kind of foresight. You should take pride in that kind of natural gift."

Faith hummed in obedient agreement, but went on staring objectively at the ground. His face didn't leave hers.

"Thank you," she offered, hating the compliment.

More silence ensued. It was still a ways to Faith's house. The quiet was worse than the dark, and it seemed as though the man were patiently waiting for Faith to take the next line.

"I didn't make a lot of friends in school," Faith said, trying to explain herself; she didn't want him to think there was something wrong with him.

Faith couldn't make out the man's face in the poor light, but it looked like he was giving her some kind of look.

"Really? You?" he asked, incredulous. "You didn't even make any harmless guy friends?"

Faith smiled, despite herself.

"I made a few," she admitted, fondly remembering the occasional hopeless romantic hopeful.

She could see the glint of her friend's teeth as he grinned.

"You know, I once had a friend who chased a girl like you for five years," he told her. "Poor guy could never figure her out."

Now she waited for him to tell her a story. He looked away.

"She was quiet, like you," he said. "Pretty," he added, distantly, like dredging a painful memory. "But we were all kids then."

"Maybe she thought he was really handsome too," Faith suggested. She wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that, but maybe it was a safe way of stating a kindness.

"Well, I'm sure that would have made him happy," the man responded warmly, nodding towards her.

That made Faith smile again. She liked this. It was like passing secret messages. They went on like this for the rest of the trip. Their conversation was slow in some spaces, but where it occurred, it included those little nuances and nods towards some more special meaning. Faith wondered if this was typical for a date. Maybe she'd been missing out.

They finally arrived at the modest two-story cottage. Most of the money had gone into the land around it, which Faith had bought so her dogs and other pets could run around. In fact, the countryside had been the whole point of moving out to this small town – that and to avoid the bustle of the city.

The two drifted to a stop at Faith's door. Her male companion released her arm.

"This is my home," Faith supplied. "I live here," she added, in case there was confusion.

It was late. Faith had to work the next day, and she was tired. Still, she didn't want her new friend to go. She still hadn't asked his name, but by now it was long past the point of embarrassment to ask for it. He'd probably forgotten he hadn't introduced himself. She wanted to bring him inside and prolong things until she could figure it out. Maybe he'd say his own name in a short anecdote or something.

She thought again about how her underwear was mismatched. He probably wouldn't mind, though. He'd seemed pretty accepting of her so far. Not that it mattered. Not that it was _going_ to matter because Faith wasn't going to ask him inside for anything like that, and if she _did_ ask him inside it was just so they could talk for a little longer.

"Well..." he said.

Faith wanted to take him by the hands and lead him into her living room. She was already up way too late. He could stay for another few minutes. She wasn't sure what she wanted to talk about at this point. She just really wanted him to stay. Tiny, little pigeons cooed softly in the hindquarters of her mind.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Faith," The man told her, taking her hand into his. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

Faith nodded. She tried to bring her mouth to form words, but was torn between goodbye and her other options. The man released her, then turned to the road. She watched him go before fishing her key from her pocket. She unlocked the door and let herself inside, met by cool air. The house had gotten a little nippy at night by itself.

* * *

The prior day, the morning before Faith had ever gained opportunity to meet a man whose name she wouldn't learn, Rae boarded a train. She owned a crop duster – an old world war biplane converted over to civilian use – and although there wasn't anything for her to dust in town right now, the law still required her to fly every now and then to keep her license. She lived in Ponyville, but unfortunately the nearest place that would take care of her baby was the downtown airport in the capital.

It was two hours away by train, but Rae would have done anything for that plane. She'd once gone a whole month without buying her own food so she could pay the rent for it. She had a laundry list of favors she owed to half the people around Ponyville, and when there weren't dusting jobs available - there commonly weren't - she painted houses, mowed lawns, or went door to door begging for anything that could make ends meet. The bottom line was that it was a losing investment any day of the week, but Rae wouldn't give it up if someone tried to pry her fingers off.

Rae picked out a window seat and plopped down in it. She popped in her headphones and put her MP3 player on shuffle, then rested her head in the corner between the window and her seat. She closed her eyes and started dozing. She'd sleep the rest of the way to Ponyville or past it; sometimes the reality didn't fit the ideal, but if she missed her stop Rae could get on a bus and sleep again until it passed Ponyville going the other way. Granted, it was not always a functional system, but Rae got home eventually.

She felt the shadow of someone next to her. Rae growled internally. There were plenty of other seats around. Why'd this person decide they needed to sit next to Rae? Were they lonely? Rae hoped they were thin enough that they wouldn't invade her bubble any worse than they already had. Whoever it was, Rae was going to spend the entire trip ignoring this person _so hard_. So of course the person tapped Rae on the arm.

Rae propped her head out of the wedge she'd stuffed it in, glaring at the other passenger with very poorly veiled annoyance. It was some guy in a casual business suit. He had a book, and one leg was crossed over the other, his shined black shoe telling the world he had more money than it did. The next thing Rae noticed was the scent he was wearing. Rae didn't really know the difference between cheap cologne and good cologne, but she was willing to classify it as sleazy cologne on a guy like this.

"Excuse me," the guy asked. "Are you from Ponyville?"

Rae's eyes narrowed. What about her screamed rinky-dink Ponyville to him? Yeah, sure, she was from Ponyville, and she didn't exactly go shopping for new clothes very often, but it's not like he could tell that just from looking. Probably. Rae pulled one earbud loose.

"I was just asking if you're from Ponyville," the guy repeated.

"Yeah," Rae replied, nodding, casting some disdain in his direction.

"Sorry," he said, "I just thought you looked like a pretty young country girl."

Rae rolled her eyes. With a groaning sigh, she frumped back to her space against the window. Just what she needed. She had this guy's number. He was some douchebag with his cute little seat on the company board, and that made him _so charming_. Sure, he'd just use his manly voice at Rae and she'd throw her pretty country girl panties right off. And after that great idea, maybe he could rake in a hundred million dollar severance package by bankrupting his whole company. Fucking _idiot_.

The person chuckled. He tapped Rae lightly on the arm with his backhand, changing Rae's expression from vague annoyance to an uncooperative scowl.

"Hey, listen," he asserted, "I'm asking because I was curious if you knew a Tabitha Saunders there."

Rae glanced over her shoulder at the book the guy was holding. Sure enough, the name "Tabitha Saunders" was written on the spine. Tabitha was a friend of Rae's, but this guy was not.

"Why?" Rae asked.

"I'm a fan of her work, and I hear Ponyville's a small town," the guy explained.

Okay. Maybe he wasn't _exactly_ the manly type that thought he'd talk any panties off. Tabitha Saunders wrote a lot of romance novels, most of which were decidedly pretty feminine. They were also very... detailed, as best as Rae could describe it. Usually from the female perspective. Her books were girly.

"All she ever writes is washy stuff," Rae complained.

The man glanced down at his book in appraisal.

"It's not washy," he decided, like he'd just given it consideration for the first time.

"Yeah. It is," Rae insisted, nodding in vehement support of her opinion.

The guy cocked an eyebrow. It was a clear challenge. Rae couldn't just leave it.

"Because all she ever writes about is love and romance and stuff!" She demanded.

The train lurched as it began to leave the station, causing the two to bob before rolling back to their original positions. The guy opened his book and flipped through a few pages, holding an open palm towards it. He went on calmly staring Rae down in incredulous disbelief.

"Well, a lot of it is based on historical events, and you know Tabitha does a lot of research on -"

"Tabitha does a lot of research on dead people fucking each other," Rae interjected, flapping her hand open and closed in front of the guy's face.

He could just stop yapping now. Rae knew Tabitha _personally_. If Rae said Tabitha's books were stupid, then they were probably stupid. The other passenger laughed out loud.

"Dead people fucking each other!" he exclaimed, combinations delight and horror. "Is that what you call it?"

The train was picking up speed; it was headed on down the tracks for home.

"Yeah," Rae insisted.

The guy laughed again. It was friendly, but Rae felt a buzz of anger wash through her body. What was he laughing at? Rae?

"So what exactly is washy about the living dead wanting to fuck one another?" he asked.

Rae rolled her eyes and huffed. Come on, guy. Get a life!

"Shut up," Rae galled. "You cannot even argue that your book there isn't full of girly love and shit, and you're a girl for reading it!"

The man across from her just went on laughing, throwing his head into his hand as he did so. It was a deep hearty laugh, like he was really enjoying it. Rae found herself cracking a grin along with him, even though she was pretty sure he was still a jerk.

"Oh, Mister Darcy!" Rae illustrated through her nose, clasping her hands together against her chin. "Buy me a horse!" She concluded, unable to think of a more girly request on short notice.

Seriously, was that the kind of stuff this guy was into? What was the word for a guy like that? Fop?

"That's Jane Austen!" the man exasperated, throwing his arm out in protest.

Total fop!

"Same difference!" Rae argued, copying his expansive gesture.

"No, Jane Austen is terrible," the man said, pointing to Rae. "Tabitha is alright."

That was hard to argue with. It wasn't Tabitha's writing, just Tabitha that was alright, and Tabitha was pretty alright.

"Eh, she's okay," Rae conceded, waving a hand in the air.

She put her head back against the window. Maybe this guy wasn't that bad, but she had to at least try ignoring him. She wouldn't be cool if she wasn't naturally aloof, even if that natural aloofness was partly artificial.

"Are bomber jackets popular around Ponyville?" the guy asked after Rae situated herself.

Rae's jacket was getting worn at the elbows, and it had a few stains in the fur of the collar. She wore the old thing specifically because it was a genuine Air Force jacket. She'd bought it at a thrift store for cheap, but it was what the jacket said that was important.

"I fly planes," Rae responded, proudly, not that he'd understand.

"No kidding?" the guy replied, impressed. "Do you do private charter or something?"

Rae shook her head, rubbing her hair into the glass pane.

"Nah," she said. "Just a little biplane."

"Enthusiast?" he asked.

"I'm in the aerial application business," Rae said smoothly, tossing the more professional term out there.

"Crop duster?" the guy guessed after mulling it over a second.

"Nope," Rae corrected, disappointed he'd figured it out. "Crop dusting is what my grandpa would have done. Aerial application is way more sophisticated."

If Rae could do anything it was talk something up. She really did know her way around crop dusting, though. She'd payed for classes on proper pesticide use and a bunch of other necessary things. It wasn't something a person just did randomly.

"You know, I've always loved planes," the guy admitted, thoughtfully. "Are they really strict about how you can fly that thing, or do you have some freedom with it?"

That got her, and once Rae revved her engines she couldn't stop. She spilled everything she knew about aviation and crop dusting. The systems and modifications the planes went through. How she took care of her own plane. The tricks she could pull off in her own little baby. Every time she started to slow down, the guy would ask another question or add a comment, and Rae would recharge. What she really wanted to do was fly fighter planes, she told him, and then she told him everything she knew about fighters.

It was at least an hour before Rae simultaneously ran out of ideas and got sick of her own voice. Once the conversation wound down, her new friend took to his book, and Rae watched for cows outside, high in her own world of flight. Okay, this guy was cool, suit or not. Apparently some people still got up in the world by being interested in the right stuff. She pictured him as some sort of entrepreneur who went around trying to turn ideas into profit, but he maybe sucked at it.

"So you really like those books, huh?" Rae asked.

"Well sure," he agreed. "I like seeing if I can recognize the author's inspirations."

Rae never had the patience for Tabitha's books, but this guy seemed a little on the quiet side – probably something he learned, as clumsy as he was with introductions. Rae knew for sure that Tabitha was a huge dork in person, so maybe they were both a couple of great big dorks, not that it was always a bad thing.

"I'm actually really close friends with her," Rae said. "That's how I know her books are for total nerds, because she's a _total_ nerd."

This time her friend rolled his eyes.

"Well," he started, "do you think you could get a total nerd to sign her book for another total nerd?"

Rae shrugged. It was good that he was honest about being a nerd. Sometimes it pissed Tabitha off.

"You could probably just ask her yourself. I'll give you directions to where she lives," Rae suggested. "Then you guys can talk about Magic cards or whatever."

Her friend smirked and rubbed the brim of his forehead.

"Thanks," he replied. "That's not going to make a bad impression, just knocking on her door, is it?"

"Nah," Rae assured him. "Just tell her Rae said you're cool. That'll get you in."

Her friend snorted, but thanked her again. Rae gave him an address and the best directions she could manage, which mainly included a lot of vague landmarks that he could turn left or right at – or both directions at once, depending on whether or not Rae could remember. Afterward, she fell asleep. She awoke in Ponyville when her new friend gripped her by the shoulder. He grabbed his suitcase and left the train, offering a smile and a goodbye on the way out.

* * *

AJ was covered from finger to forearm in a thin layer of grease. Another patch was spread across her forehead where she'd wiped the perspiration off her brow. The defeated remnants of a mower deck lay out in front of her. The stupid thing was cutting in steeped patterns, and she'd taken it apart in the assumption it would be a quick fix. Sure enough, she'd checked everything and it was the mower spindle that was messed up. It was always the most inconvenient damned thing.

Except it wasn't, really. AJ was just tired. She was up too early and in bed too late every night. She sighed and surveyed the vanquished machinery. She'd need to swing by the store later today and see if she couldn't find a replacement part. Until then she just had to decide whether she should leave the mower deck in shambles or if she should put it back together. A part of her gave a mental lashing for even thinking that – she was going to have to put it back together or she'd lose parts!

"Heey, Ajay!" came a chipper voice from the entrance of the barn. It tap-danced the line between friendly and obnoxious.

It was Pepper. She was leaning over the lower section of the barn door, bright-eyed and cheery. AJ's heart crossed its arms and glared daggers at the girl. There wasn't time to play around! Her mind, however, gave her heart a good shove. Pepper owned the land the farm was built on, and if she wanted to run around here then she had the right. Besides, Pepper was a nice girl and she wouldn't be hanging around if she _knew_ she was in the way.

"Hey, girly," AJ replied, rubbing her face against her shoulder. "That a new shirt?" She asked, pointing to the bright red T her friend was wearing

"You betcha!" Pepper chirped, neither her seconds spared nor her gleaming eyes on AJ's face. "How'd you know?"

Pepper bounced and fidgeted as she spoke. It blew AJ's mind knowing somebody with so much pent up energy. It had to be bad for Pepper somehow, but only medical science knew how.

"Just looks like it hasn't been through the wash yet," AJ answered, vaguely waving a screwdriver.

AJ's brother, Mac, walked into view behind Pepper. The door hinges were on the right side, which meant he needed to open the thing from the left. Instead, he stopped closer to the hinges, behind Pepper, and reached his arm around without touching her.

"Excuse me," he said softly, nodding politely to Pepper as he shared Space with her.

Real smooth, Mac, AJ cringed. Pepper squeaked, hopping up on the door frame so Mac could swing her and the door aside together. Once inside, he swung the door shut again, briefly bringing himself face to face with the bubbly, curl-topped redhead, sharing Space again.

"Hello mister 'Big' Maxwell Smith," Pepper greeted with a hint of mock-Southern.

Mac set a propane tank down in the corner of the barn with his back and arms, more pose than brains. Lift with your legs, Mac, glowered AJ. She was giving him a reproving look, but she knew he wasn't going to notice.

"Hello missus Pepper Pepper," Mac replied.

He strutted on over to the doorway, leaning next to Pepper.

"How're you doing?" Pepper asked, resting on a hand.

Pepper looked on a hair-trigger for giggles. Either for Mac, or probably because she knew AJ had 'trouble' written all over her and was going to drop it on her brother any second now. Mac leaned down into Pepper's Space for a third time, putting his own head on his fist, which required Pepper to wiggle aside for him.

AJ wished they'd start making out there on the barn door and get it over with so she could spray them with the garden hose. All this looking into each others' eyes and flirtation was just wasting time anyway. AJ took off her hat and booted over to the two of them. She cocked the Stetson back and, with a flick of the wrist, snapped it into their Space. Pepper reared out of the door, narrowly missing a swat, but the startled look on Mac's face was priceless. Like he'd been caught stealing cookies.

"Hey there, mister _Big_ Maxwell Smith!" AJ deviled, pinching him.

"H- Hey!" Mac protested, leaping away from his sister.

He tried to grab her hand, but AJ was like a snake.

"I hear there's a _Big_ Maxwell Smith hole in the deer fence that needs some _Big _Maxwell Smith fixin'!" AJ picked, chasing Mac to the wall of the barn.

Mac was asking for it. He should know better then to slack off, chasing some girl around in front of AJ when they both knew he should be working.

"Why don't you go fix _that_ hole! Mister Big Maxwell Smith!" AJ carried on.

Mac held his arms out defensively, putting his shorter sister at bay. By and large, both Smith siblings were built taller and tougher than most – they'd had a big father and they ate well – but Mac still had a good advantage over her.

"Alright," he submitted defensively.

AJ relented and made a path to the door. Mac brought himself back up to his full height and attempted to pass by her as nonchalantly as possible, probably trying to save some dignity in front of Pepper. AJ pinched again once he had his back exposed, just to remind him who was boss, causing Mac to half skip and swat back at her, grunting in heckled frustration.

He swung Pepper and the barn door aside and tromped outdoors.

"Bye bye, mister 'Big' Maxwell," Pepper teased after him.

Mac nodded, but did his best to maintain polite indifference. Probably the better choice; it would have been embarrassing trying to swoon a girl after a display like that.

AJ gently but deliberately shoved Pepper off the door, accidentally wiping mower grease on Pepper's new shirt in the process. Pepper didn't seem to notice. AJ stepped outside and eyeballed her brother. When he shot a glance over his shoulder, she waved him a firmly dismissive goodbye. Pepper hugged AJ from behind as the farmgirl waved, putting her head beneath AJ's extended arm, waving too, but with a lot more spastic celebration. It diminished the effect somewhat.

When Mac left earshot, AJ put Pepper in a friendly headlock.

"So what, _exactly_, brings Miss Pepper to the farm?" AJ demanded her old compatriot. "Aside from hormones."

Pepper bit AJ's waist. Hard.

"Ow!" AJ exclaimed, shoving Pepper away angrily, smearing grease all over the other girl's face.

That was just playing plain dirty. Pepper could have grabbed AJ by the legs or slapped her in the face or something, but biting was totally unfair. AJ lifted up her shirt to check for a mark.

"Sheez, girl," AJ groused, icing over to diffuse the situation before Pepper attacked again. "That hurt."

"Sorry," Pepper conceded, searching AJ concernedly for any wounds.

Pepper gave her friend a loving squeeze, making sure she healed up any emotional injuries to cover bases.

"I'm _fine_," whined AJ.

"I know! I just like hugs!" Pepper spouted.

AJ's arms were pinned, so she waited for Pepper to get her worth out of the hug. As much as it always grated on AJ's nerves to see her, Pepper sure was a nice girl. You just couldn't argue with someone who directed her every last drop of energy to making certain you were happy.

"So what can the Smiths do you for?" AJ tried again when Pepper let her go.

"Oh, Mac doesn't have to _pay_ me anything!" Pepper responded, grinning like an imp.

AJ chucked her hat into Pepper's mischievous face. That was about all she had to say about that. Pepper caught it on the rebound and handed it back.

"What do you even see in my bother?" AJ asked.

"He's big," Pepper replied, sheepishly.

AJ rolled her eyes.

"And he's Maxwell," Pepper expanded, the grin creeping back onto her face.

AJ cupped a hand over Pepper's mouth.

"Nuh-uh," she demanded. "Whatever you're thinking about doing with him -" AJ caught sight of Pepper's innocent eyes. "Whatever ya'll are _alread__y_ doing with him. That's a Pepper secret, okay? If I hear about it I'll kill both of you."

Pepper nodded. AJ let go of her face, leaving behind a second grease hand print. If Pepper and Mac were going to do any bonding... _emotionally, _then it was damn well going to be without AJ ever having to think about it.

"Sorry about your new shirt," AJ noticed, pointing out the fresh grease stain.

"Huh?" Pepper said, just now catching wind of the fact. "Oh, it's no problem!"

Pepper peeled her shirt off. AJ's mouth dropped open. She hadn't thought they made bras that size with little cartoony characters all over them. AJ had no idea what it said about her friend. Did she special order that stuff? Seemed like a lot of work just to have Spiderman and Mickey Mouse supporting your business.

Pepper turned her shirt inside out and put it back on.

"What on earth," AJ began.

"What? It's just inside out," Pepper said, oblivious. "Maybe I ought to yank the tag off."

AJ tried to consider how she might begin such a conversation. 'So I see you only trust Spiderman to uphold...' Nope. 'Gee, I bet it would be a PR disaster if they knew Mickey Mouse..." That had potential. Probably not enough, though. How to ask without being totally weird about it? Hell with it, why _not_ be blunt about it?

Unfortunately, AJ didn't get the chance. The front door of the house slammed open, releasing a wild Granny Smith out onto the world in all her finely-aged, farm-booted glory. AJ didn't know if she was rough with the doors on purpose, or if it was a built-in mechanism for an elderly woman in charge. When AJ had been a teenager, it had certainly been the most horrific part of her life.

One young boy had been so alarmed he actually leapt, half naked, out onto the Smith roof and ran home for his life. He told all his friends that Granny had seen the entire thing and was wielding a shotgun, when in fact the old woman had eyes so bad she didn't realize she'd intruded on 'youthful exploration' until two months later when word of her murdering, protective attitude finally circulated around town and caught up to her ears. Granny had, in fact, been wielding a shotgun at the time, but not for the reasons the boy believed. Try getting a date after that.

Following just a ways behind Granny was a man in a suit, roughly AJ's age, handsome too, who was flanked by the family collie, Winona, and the family sweet-hearted little ray of sunshine, Abigail, who was only sweet-hearted when she wasn't reigning well-intentioned destruction across town.

"Where the heck is your brother?" Granny demanded obstinately as she plodded up the hill.

"He's out fixin' a hole," AJ said.

"Well tell 'em to come out here and say hi to our guest!" Granny ordered in the obliviousness of old age.

When she got up close enough to notice AJ's company was, in fact, not a brightly colored tree sapling so much as a brightly colored human girl, Pepper sprang into action.

"Hi, Granny Smith!" Pepper exclaimed, hugging Granny off her feet like the two were loving family.

"Oh, well hallo there, Pepper!" Granny replied, returning a blind hug while she stumbled for balance.

The two separated.

"Is that grandson of mine married to you yet?" Granny asked.

"Granny," AJ scolded. "I think Mac would tell you if he was planning on -"

"Well maybe I forgot!" Granny Smith snapped. "I'm old! I can't remember what I even did this morning, much less what all is gettin' married to what!"

She mumbled something about husbandry and the darn livestock. Granny's entourage was still waiting obediently behind her.

"It's okay. Mac doesn't have to -" Pepper began.

"He don't have a choice in the matter!" Granny declared, waving her cane about in the air. "When you're ready to marry that boy, you just give me the word, Pepper, and that boy's gettin' married!"

She muttered to herself again. This time about young people and having no sense. AJ met eyes with the stranger behind Granny. He was looking kindly at her. A bit imploringly? Something. Something a bit different than that – a bit more with the quality of a razor blade. AJ suddenly wished she'd been expecting company. She was not dressed to meet strange men. Well, normally she was dressed to meet whoever she damn well pleased, but right now she wasn't dressed to meet a keenly suited man who was looking directly into her eyes and not anywhere near her clothing.

"Okay!" Pepper responded, mirroring Granny's determination.

AJ pulled herself away. She meant to ask Granny who the gentleman was, but had suddenly caught a tennis ball in her throat. Winona was running back and forth alongside him, tugging at his attention. Guy must have scratched behind Winona's ears earlier. A person thinks dogs are loyal animals, but ear scratching is all they're loyal to.

"Who's this?" Pepper asked, pointing at the man.

"Who's what?" Granny answered, late for a nap.

"This!" Pepper reiterated, grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him towards her.

The man didn't seem terribly put-off by Pepper's sudden outburst of physical contact. Quite the contrary, he put a hand at the small of her back as he opened his mouth to reply, but too late.

"Oh, him." Granny said, squinting. "He's here to marry AJ."

Abigail and Pepper gasped. AJ threw her hands over her face and turned beet red. It appeared to come as a shock to their guest, too. Granny slipped off into dreamland while still standing. Damnit Granny...

"Ohmygosh!" Pepper trilled, pressurized excitement nearly bursting. "Really!"

Now AJ remembered. She'd been told a patron would be staying here while he did business in Ponyville. Damnit, Granny. Damnit! A simple introduction! How hard was that to screw up! This is Mr. Caldwell! Mr. Caldwell, not a wedding partner! Pepper would be scampering all over town telling everybody!

"This is Mr. Caldwell!" AJ proclaimed, grappling to regain some sanity and fighting the redness in her face down to normal levels.

"You're so cute together!" Pepper encouraged, pushing Mr. Caldwell, who was catching the contagion of Pepper's enthusiasm, next to AJ. "Can you please kiss for me? Please kiss!"

Pepper clasped her hands together. Abigail had both hands over her mouth, turning as red as AJ had just been. Mr. Caldwell looked AJ deeply in the eyes and took her by her greasy hand. Pepper clapped. This was exactly what she wanted. AJ was prepared to apologize on behalf of Granny, but the switch master in her mind was suddenly pulling her hair out trying to figure out which track the train was on. This was the most flustering introduction of her life.

Mr. Caldwell kissed AJ on the arm, just above the grease. Abigail stifled a giggle.

"No! A real kiss!" Pepper insisted.

"I don't know about you, but I seem to have lucked out," Mr. Caldwell said serenely, a thinly bemused smile curled about his lips. He was still piercing into AJ. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

AJ didn't know what to do next. Slap him? Deny everything? He was just playing along with the moment.

"Yeah," AJ managed, feeling her face going hot again, burning around her freckles.

"Wow, you're looking sunburned awful fast, sis," Abigail narrated, laughing.

After a few seconds of breathing, AJ regained enough composure to work with all this.

"So's you know, I don't do laundry, cookin', or cleaning," she said, scrabbling at the momentum of her usual authority. "I figure a man who's bigger and stronger can stand to do _all _the hard work and still save time."

"Well, maybe not that lucky," Mr. Caldwell resigned, shaking AJ's hand as if she were a business partner now.

"And I get to handle the money," AJ finished directly.

"Then again," Mr. Caldwell said slowly, considerately, "maybe a little luckier than I realized."

He told her this with a certain kind of distant respect, like he'd just realized he'd met a competitor. AJ smiled. A man who knew his place. Now there was something you didn't see every day.

"Aw, AJ, that ain't no way to treat a husband!" Abigail protested from the peanut gallery.

"Shush up," AJ scolded. "You can decide how you'll run yours when you've got one!"

"Okay! Kiss now!" Pepper begged.

Mr. Caldwell waggled an eyebrow. 'Not on your life, buddy,' AJ replied with her own. The way he bore down on her with that look, though, it was awfully hard to stay stern about it. He was still holding AJ's hand delicately, and his hand was soft. He smelled nice.

"Kiss!" Abigail encouraged with a little confidence, joining Pepper.

"Do it!" Pepper pleaded, jostling AJ by the arm.

Mr. Caldwell just kept staring AJ down for a cue. Winona barked and jumped, understanding excitement but not much else. AJ had started playing the game, but now she wondered if it wasn't all going a bit past crimeless fun. Still, she wasn't one to give into peer pressure.

"Now I've got conditions!" AJ proposed, stalling to get a grasp on where this was all headed.

"Aw, Aay-Jaay!" Pepper whined.

"Yeah!" Abigail insisted along, motivated by her young perception of how romance was supposed to go.

Granny Smith snorted awake.

"This is Mr. Marion Caldwell," she recovered, shaking her cane vaguely where Marion had been, as if she'd never missed a beat.

She glanced around, taking in the blur of her surroundings, only then realizing that AJ and Marion were holding hands together. She'd clearly interrupted some kind of Moment, whatever it may have been.

"Goodness," Granny said, "How long was I out?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in there involving marriage," AJ replied, purposefully vague, realizing now just how wide a smirk she was wearing.

"Marriage!" shrieked an outraged Granny Smith. Why hadn't she been informed? She was Granny Smith, for goodness sake! She had to be informed before a Smith in her house got married! Especially a Miss Smith!

Marion began to look a bit confused. Worried, even, facing the blustering onslaught of Hurricane Granny. He was playing this game by Smith rules now, on Smith soil, and Smith rules favored the Smiths. Especially if you didn't know the Smiths that well. He released AJ, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and did his best to wipe the grease from his hand. He didn't want to play now, did he?

"Well we have to, on account of the baby," AJ said, woodenly, watching Marion from the corner of her eye. She'd never been good at acting.

Granny Smith knit her brows and glared at the two of them. AJ knew Granny was waiting for AJ to either come clean or start babbling a lot of incriminating denial.

"Look, I don't-" Marion faltered, shaking his hands.

"Darlin'!" AJ fretted, more transparent than a soap opera as she clutched Marion by the hand, dirtying it once more. "I think it's time we came clean about – _oof_!"

AJ doubled forward as Granny's cane propelled itself into her gut.

"AJ's _pregnant_?" cried a wild-eyed Abigail.

"No you ain't!" Granny accused, as if her say were final on the matter whether AJ was telling the truth or not.

Granny ambled over to them and took Mr. Caldwell's handkerchief from his grip. She held his hand out and dabbed at the cloth with her tongue.

"I'm sorry about my granddaughter givin' you trouble, Mister Caldwell," she said, wiping the muck off his digits. "You know how she gets."

AJ was quite sure she did not know 'how she got', as this was the first time she'd ever pretended to be pregnant with a stranger's baby, to horrify Granny or otherwise. She also did not like Granny insinuating to strangers that everybody should just know 'how AJ got'. AJ got angry, is what she was going to get.

"It's alright," Marion replied, bouncing a look off AJ. "I started it, she was ending it."

"We were just funnin'," AJ grumbled, rubbing the sore spot above her navel.

Originally it was going to be 'I', but 'we' was better. If it was 'we', then AJ was dragging someone else down with her.

"This is kind of like that time we went to that fancy garden party and you kept asking why nobody was gardening," Pepper reminded everyone.

That had been the worst party for AJ. She'd started with that joke, and when nobody laughed she tried to explain it. When that didn't work, she just kept going with it, doing her best to not look stupid. Pretty soon, she'd dug up some weeds and was trying to explain that this was gardening. Nobody had laughed, especially not AJ, who was screaming in mental agony the entire time.

AJ eyed Mr. Caldwell, whose handkerchief was being pocketed and stolen by Granny now. It was probably about time for AJ to get back to work, before things got any more awkward in front of him. Except if she did that, Pepper was now probably thinking of a million stories she could tell about stupid things AJ had done in public.

"I thought it was pretty funny," Pepper added, "but only because I knew enough context at the time. I think if maybe Granny hadn't jabbed you then your whole pregnancy joke was probably going to enter a horrible death spiral that would only be funny with enough context, and only to other people."

"So are ya'll _not_ getting married?" Inquired Abigail.

"If she wants to get married so much, then I think she ought to do all the cookin' tonight like a good wife!" Granny Smith decided.

"Hey!" AJ protested in vain. "That ain't fair! It's Mac's turn!"

"Well Mac ain't runnin' around fakin' pregnancies!" Granny snapped.

"Only 'cause he can't," argued AJ ineffectually.

"Excuse me," Marion interrupted, "ladies. I was hoping I might get a chance to look around town before the evening. I also don't think it would go amiss to get out of here before I cause anymore trouble."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all, deary," Granny insisted, patting Marion on the knuckles.

"Everyone's in trouble!" countermanded AJ, fiercely. "Have ya'll seen my cookin'? I hope ya'll like tacos! Burnt."

"Tacos again!" whined Abigail. "Can't we order a pizza?"

"I'll show you around!" jumped Pepper to the rescue.

She grabbed Marion around the arm and pulled him away from the bickering Smiths. Down the hill they went, towards town, with Pepper jovially waving goodbye over her shoulder. Pepper was a nice girl, but where she found the energy, AJ just didn't know.


	2. Chapter 2

Pepper tugged gleefully at Marion's arm, the man stumbling along with as much dignity as one can while being lead by a girl who, if a dog, would be choking herself with the leash. Pepper dragged Marion until the girl was sure they were out of ear shot of the Smiths, past the farm gates and with nobody around.

"Mr. Caldwell!" Pepper exclaimed, slapping Marion on the chest. "Do you even know what you were doing!"

Pepper broke out laughing, holding Marion's shoulders to keep herself upright. The man simply looked on, not in on the joke.

"AJ must really like _you_," she teased. "You are in _trouble_!"

She shook him gently back and forth, rattling a smile onto him as he caught up with the subject.

"Trouble?" he managed.

Pepper nodded.

"I'm Pepper!" she introduced, leaping tracks at the speed of light. "Do you want to kiss me?" she rambled, thrusting the back of her hand towards the man.

Marion hesitated before taking her by the fingers, peering over her knuckles as though she might have a mousetrap hidden somewhere.

"It's not as much fun if you ask for it like that," he mumbled apprehensively, then kissed her politely.

This threw Pepper into another laughing fit, accompanied by a few uproarious snorts.

"Oh my god!" She breathed, "I've never met a man who actually did that sort of thing before!"

Marion leaned away, brows cocked.

"No, no!" Pepper cooed, rubbing his shoulder. "It's cute! It's so cute."

Marion heaved a sigh but didn't fully wipe the reluctant look from his face. Pepper hadn't meant to laugh _at_ the man. She honestly did wish that Mac would take her by the hands and give her looks like Marion had given AJ, but it was like meeting a character from a movie or cheesy romance novel. She always figured real men never did things like that because it was beyond embarrassing when it backfired.

"What's your secret?" Pepper asked, leaving Marion behind in a cloud of internal monologue.

"What?" he replied, taking the only open avenue of conversation.

"I mean doesn't that blow up in your face sometimes?" Pepper clarified. "What if AJ slapped you or got really mad? Actually, AJ wouldn't have even slapped you – she'd have punched your lights out!"

Pepper threw her arms out, simulating an explosion for emphasis, then covered her nose to protect it from an imaginary AJ.

"Oh," Marion replied, "She'd have the right. You never know if someone's having a bad day, I guess." He rubbed the tip of his nose, sympathetic to Pepper's fictional injury. "Still, if I can laugh off a black eye then nobody knows I wasn't _expecting_ a black eye."

Pepper pushed the man. She could see right through someone trying to be _clever_.

"So your secret is that you kiss the girl, let her hit you, then just go ahead and pretend everything went according to plan?" Pepper sniggered.

Marion shrugged.

"It depends on the girl," he confessed.

"_Well then_, Johnny Bravo," Pepper replied, grinning. She reached out and regained arrest of Marion's arm.

"Johnny Bravo?" he echoed as Pepper led the way towards town.

"_Gosh_, yes," Pepper reiterated. "How long are you going to be in Ponyville?"

"A couple of months."

"Well I hope you like the _whole_ Smith family, Mr. Smooth Moves!"

* * *

Pepper had run Marion through her usual fair – particular note on the difference between fare and fair. She loved introducing people to one another. It wasn't just kind, but it helped Pepper keep in touch and hold onto all her friendships. Getting two people to talk about themselves, who they were and what they'd been doing lately, paid off all around. Marion had been surprisingly quiet about himself, though. She'd learned he was here on business regarding some sales thing, but beyond that he spent a lot of time asking questions and leading conversations by saying nothing. He wasn't just quiet at times, he was deviously quiet. Selectively quiet.

They'd stopped off at Sugarcube Corner, the local bakery, and even now he was flirting with Mrs. Cobb over the counter while Pepper and Mr. Cobb worked on a batch of cookies in the back. Every time Mrs. Cobb chortled, Mr. Cob got a little rougher with the cookie dough.

"It sure was _nice_ of you to introduce us to your friend!" Mr. Cobb seethed in the desperate tone of a man who knew he'd be sleeping on the couch if he was jealous.

"No problem, Mr. Cobb!" Pepper welcomed. She'd expected Marion to behave like most men and opt for guy chat. "You know I love to show people around!"

It was better just to play along with a facade in these cases. People like to vent, but Pepper found it had a way of drawing feelings out, solidifying them, and leading to confrontation. Besides, Marion and Mrs. Cobb were being innocent enough. At least for Marion, apparently. She'd never seen a man so interested in women. Over the past two hours he'd expressed nothing but sweet, flattering, exaggerated, and often tangentially inaccurate opinions of every girl he met. Pepper didn't doubt he'd have some positive romantic descriptors of Mrs. Cobb when they left the bakery, even though she was probably fifteen years his senior.

"Well my _wife_ certainly seems to be quite fond of him!" Mr. Cobb yelled, choking on the word '_wife_' like he'd just swallowed a wad of cat hair.

"When these are done, I'm going to come back and buy a _whole_ box!" Pepper assured Mr. Cobb, indicating the cookies.

They were both far from indoor voices, and after a few moments Mrs. Cobb swung the doors open, strutting into the kitchen with the serene air of a serious self-esteem boost.

"How is Mr. Caldwell, _dear_? He certainly seems _nice_," Mr. Cobb conjectured, quite nearly concealing a cauldron of seething resentment.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Cobb shushed, swatting her husband on the back. "He _is_ nice. And I hope you know he had quite the eye for your German chocolate cake."

"Oh, he did? Well that's a good eye," Mr. Cobb trailed off at the last sentiment, losing nerve.

"Okay, Cobbs! I'm going to go now," Pepper interrupted. "Nice working with you, Mr. Cobb!" She gave the baker a short, friendly back rub and a tight squeeze.

Simple things like that mattered. If Mr. Cake felt a little better, he'd be less likely to get short with his wife, his wife wouldn't get defensive, and nobody would get in trouble tonight. Pepper knew what it was like being in the moment.

"Alright, nice working with you too, Pepper," Mr. Cobb conceded.

On her way out, Pepper saw Mrs. Cobb embrace her husband around the back from the corner of her eye. A little encouragement was always a good thing.

In the front of the store, Marion was still leaning over the counter, a tomcat in dress clothes.

"You like chocolate cake?" he asked nonchalantly, as though the cake had dropped from the sky.

"Do I like chocolate cake?" Pepper repeated. "I _love_ chocolate cake!" She agreed, slapping her hands against the counter, bouncing.

"Well I can't eat a whole one by myself. Want to share a piece once you're done showing me around town?" Marion offered.

It was a nice suggestion, but Pepper was wise to Mister Charmer already. Sure, things would start with a nice, innocent, chocolate cake, but soon after that there might be a movie, then a dinner, then hugs and kisses, probably babies, and before she realized it Pepper would be a happy old woman with a lot of fond memories, and then she'd die. Pepper knew the game: she'd used it on Mac, and she would not be reeled in. But then again, Pepper did love chocolate cake.

"You bet!" Pepper exclaimed.

Pepper fetched a knife and cut small pieces for them before Marion boxed the cake up.

"I'll bring the rest home as a thank you for the Smiths. They're offering dinner tonight," Marion decided.

They exited the shop together, Marion now free from Pepper's grasp while eating and carrying his confection. He was taking his time with it too. A very clever move.

"So tell me a little about AJ," Marion suggested.

"What'd you want to know, huh?" Pepper asked, nudging him with her elbow.

Pepper could sense it. Love was in the air. Or scandal. Marion seemed to like the girls, but AJ was a star wrangler, and she seemed to like the Marion.

"How long have you been friends?" Marion suggested.

"Oh, years!" Pepper exposited, as if it came from time immemorial. "We met back in our early teens when I used to visit Gramma. You know, AJ seems really straight-laced at first, but she sure is friendly, and she'll loosen right up as long as all her chores are done!"

Marion was smiling and looking at Pepper's face. He was being so attentive. Pepper felt like the center of things, which was good because Pepper was a great entertainer, but Pepper was always doing the same thing with people, and she looked right back.

"She'll _tell_ you she doesn't go in for pranks, but she has moods," Pepper said extending a pinkie for mock poshness. "Like one time we got an empty lipstick tube and carved up a piece of colored wax. We put the wax in the tube and replaced our friend Rochelle's favorite lipstick one night."

Pepper fell into a giggle fit just thinking about the silly trick. Rochelle had been so confused, but after AJ and Pepper gave the real lipstick back they all agreed it was a good prank. It had taken forever making a wax that fit the right color, and AJ had to carve it up perfectly.

"Is she still into that kind of thing?" Marion asked.

Pepper shook her head. "No," she replied, disappointed. "Now she's all about being a grown woman with too many responsibilities. Her and Mac both!" A vision occurred to Pepper of Mac as a stingy grown woman. Pepper decided not to correct herself. "Last April fools I couldn't convince him to do anything!"

"Sorry to hear that," Marion consoled, touching Pepper on the arm. "I'm sure he gets a kick out of you, though. You seem colorful, and being at work around the farm all day probably makes a splash of color seem really nice."

"Yeah," Pepper agreed, beaming. "I think that's true. Mac's such a big 'ole sweetheart! He's always there and he's so patient, even if he is a Sally Slowpoke some days." Pepper paused a hitch. Right now love was in the air for Marion and AJ, not for she and Mac. "But I think that's true for AJ too," Pepper corrected the situation. "She and Mac both would just work themselves to death on the farm if nobody stopped them, and truthfully I know they both get tired of it."

"Sounds like a respectable girl," Marion assessed, warmly.

And there the conversation ended. Pepper would think of a new line of communication soon, but it was something about the way Marion had said 'respectable girl' that made extra words seem unnecessary. Like Pepper had painted a picture of her friend, and Marion liked it – nothing more to add or take away. Her heart crooned thinking about her girlfriend being swept away in a cowgirl romance with a city boy - like a story, only it would be full of long, boring stretches where nothing happened.

* * *

That was the problem with writing. Tabitha had sticky notes strewn all across her work space and countless outlines saved in her computer from odd ideas she'd had, but when it came down to it there was always a careful balance of too much and not enough. On same days, every character she wrote about had something to tell, but their lives had to be shuffled aside in the interest of keeping the book a readable length. On others, her characters walked into dead ends that none of them could reasonably pass without providence, and Tabitha hated finding excuses for the plot.

A stack of boxes plopped down on with Tabitha's desk with the dauntless force of gravity. The top boxes teetered. Tabitha scrambled to catch them, but they toppled right over her desperate fingers and onto the desk, spilling their contents and sending note cards, folded paper, and flash drives skittering across the wood surface.

"_Spencer_!" Tabitha shouted.

"What?" the teenager asked, nonplussed, as though he'd followed a set of orders to the best of their stupid letter.

"I asked you to bring me my notes, not bury me in them!" Tabitha berated, scooping loose paper into a large pile.

"But they were really heavy!" Spencer complained.

Spencer was a good kid, usually useful, but he wasn't always easy to have around. He'd chosen to live with Tabitha and she'd let him, since which they'd developed a kind of relationship that might be described by the narrow-minded as "child labor" or "slavery", but Spencer was Tabitha's cousin, which excluded either assertion from being reality.

Once Tabitha had everything scooped together, she started separating things into vaguely organized piles of paper, card, drives, and miscellaneous. Afterward she'd figure out where everything belonged and she'd put them back in the correct containers.

"Spencer, what is this?" Tabitha asked, catching notice of the writing on a folded paper.

"It's a note?" Spencer guessed, still standing obediently until Tabitha dismissed him.

"What _kind_ of note?" Tabitha quizzed, handing the offending paper to her servant.

Spencer examined it, scratching his head.

"Read the name!" Tabitha instructed impatiently.

"Sir Walter... Raleigh?" Spencer guessed again.

Tabitha waited for Spencer to assemble the pieces, but she could see the clockwork getting jammed.

"I asked for my notes on famous historical charmers," Tabitha explained.

Spencer stared blankly. He looked at the note and feigned sudden realization.

"Oh," Spencer said, as if he had it now.

Tabitha wasn't fooled, and she stared him down for it.

"Uh, who was Sir Walter Raleigh again?" Spencer conceded.

Tabitha huffed. This was why her cousin couldn't be described as an "indentured servant". A real slave would have been terrorized to more efficiency than Spencer.

"He _is_ a historical charmer, but his charms are largely a matter of conjecture and folk tale," Tabitha belabored, exasperated.

"Oh, I knew that," Spencer agreed, grinning a silly grin, trying his best to shake off an oncoming lecture.

"And what about this?" Tabitha demanded, holding out a note card covered back to front in scribbles.

"Genji?" Spencer ventured.

"Genji isn't even a historical seducer! He's a fictional character based on non-fictional entities!" Tabitha explained.

Spencer stared blankly again. His main problem was that he just wasn't interested in the important things in life. He was a teenager, focused on girls and his changing body. Tabitha had tried to sit down and have a talk with him about it, but that had ended weirdly and they hadn't discussed it again.

"So he's not historical then?" Spencer asked.

Tabitha groaned, slapping her palm to her face.

"Because it said 'historically based' on the box, so I thought it was historical!" Spencer justified, shrugging.

Tabitha wished she knew a better way to set Spencer straight about things. He learned from trial and error, and he usually had to get things wrong before he got things right. For now, a few weak excuses would have to suffice. A lecture could come later.

The doorbell rang.

"I'll get it!" Spencer announced, spotting the avenue for escape.

"No you don't," Tabitha said, hooking a finger in the boy's collar, gagging him in mid dash for freedom. "You'll stay here and reorganize my notes, and don't think I won't be checking over them later!"

"If you're going to check them over, why don't you just organize them yourself?" Spencer muttered.

Tabitha ignored him, and despite his open disapproval, Spencer went to work. He'd learned by now that it was less energy to cooperate than to fight. Besides, Spencer really did like being appreciated when he did a good job. He practically lived for it to the point where it had become his way of showing affection. He spent hours around their friend Rochelle's boutique, cleaning up the place and doing heavy lifting, even though his boyish muscular development hadn't caught up to it.

The doorbell rang again before Tabitha could reach it. Then several more times in a looping musical pattern, and Twilight instantly knew who it was. She swung the door open.

"Hey, Pepper," Tabitha said, being certain to wear a look that said 'I'm on to you'. "And friend," she added, noting the well-dressed gentleman accompanying.

"Tabitha! It's so good to see you!" Pepper exclaimed, sweeping Tabitha into an embrace that crushed the air out of her.

"Pepper, I just saw you yesterday!" Tabitha gasped.

"I know, but you're my bestest friend!" Pepper exclaimed.

Pepper released Tabitha only to push her at the grown man waiting patiently by the door. He backed up a few steps out of respect for Tabitha's personal bubble, which Tabitha was thankful for. Sometimes when people spent too much time around Pepper they let themselves get dragged away.

"This is my good friend Marion Caldwell!" Pepper announced. "He's here on business. Marion, this is Tabitha Saunders, super duper writer extraordinaire!"

It was one of these things again. It was nice that Pepper liked to introduce people, but such a pain that she brought every passerby to see Tabitha.

"Well, nice to meet you Marion!" Tabitha said in half-baked glee. "It sure is nice being friends now, but as you can imagine, I have an awful lot to do and not a lot of time to do it!"

Tabitha grabbed Pepper by the arm and whipped her outside again, where Pepper belonged.

"Thanks for dropping by! See you at the party tonight!" Tabitha fired.

She slammed the door behind Pepper, not giving the girl a chance to protest or recover. From outside, Tabitha could still hear Pepper's ongoing struggle with speaking volume.

"Did you hear that?" Pepper exclaimed from the other side of the door. "See _you_ at he party! You're gonna go, right? Huh?"

That was Pepper for you. Just keep running, never slowing down. It was great how happy she could be, but Pepper was always skimming the surface of the social world. She never landed and came to understand anyone deep down. Even poor Mac got by because he was patient and didn't like to be much delved into anyway. Any other man would have gotten tired of only being as important as everyone else.

Tabitha went to check on Spencer. Like usual he seemed lost; she caught him moving one paper from pile to pile, apparently not having any idea where it belonged. Tabitha sighed. She was a connoisseur of meaningful human relationships. It was her trade and subject of study. It would be nice if another person would relate to it in quite the way she did, but people like that don't just magically appear at one's doorstep.

AJ could do some amazing things. She could stare down a bull and ride one out for longer than most. She tamed uncooperative broncos, she could fix tractors and cars, and she nearly ran an entire apple orchard by herself. However, one thing she could not do well was cook without apples. It wasn't exactly her reputation - she was great with apple dishes, and that created a generalized illusion of cooking skill, but apple dishes were all that ran in the family.

"Don't flip it yet! It ain't done!" Granny scolded, watching over AJ's shoulder.

"Granny, it's stickin' to the pan," AJ argued.

"It's supposed to at first. Wait for it to unstick!" Granny ordered.

AJ eyed the chicken warily. It was either burning or turning golden brown. She'd rather be doing a pie or cobbler, but Marion had brought home a partially eaten chocolate cake as a gift, and that meant dessert was accounted for.

Granny dropped her attention to check on the baked apples they were preparing as a side. AJ made a sideways glance over her shoulder, then flipped the chicken in secret. They were still white on the bottom, but at least now they weren't stuck to the pan. When Granny turned back a grim cloud of disapproval darkened her visage. She balled up her fists and brought them to rest on her hips.

"You done flipped that chicken," Granny observed coldly.

Fear washed over AJ. Her mind scrambled to justify for her reckless transgression, but it choked on the details. She'd saved the chicken! It was going to burn and AJ had done what was necessary!

"It – It was stickin' to the pan!" AJ stammered.

With a mighty swing of her hips, the old farmer's wife knocked AJ away from the stove and took over.

"You daft girl! Am I gonna have to guard this chicken from you?" Granny demanded.

"It was stickin' to the pan!" AJ insisted, more sure this time.

"It's supposed to!" countered Granny. "I been cooking for longer than I can remember, and that's how it works!"

"Granny, ya'll can't even remember as far back as this morning," AJ quarreled, crossing her arms.

"Then I been cooking since before then!" Granny carried on. "Besides, woman, you want that young Caldwell boy to think you ain't good at nothin' but bumpkin chores?"

AJ froze. It wasn't just that she'd been insulted. It wasn't about Marion, not that he didn't seem a right fella. Maybe too forward, now that she'd had a chance to be annoyed about that morning. But that wasn't the source of the icy fingers now wrapping around her soul. The dread came because Granny Smith appeared openly invested in AJ's romantic life.

"Granny, I don't know what you're talkin' about," AJ hastily denied.

"Don't you lie to me, girl," Granny refused. "Don't no young lady go blushin' and carryin' on like that if she don't think somethin' of a fella!"

"They ain't bumpkin chores!" AJ toughed, trying to change the subject.

"Of course they ain't! Take pride in your work! But ain't no city boy going to understand the importance of half of what you do without explainin'," Granny replied, obstinately.

"Don't make no difference no how," AJ hissed evasively.

"It does so!" Granny railed, slapping her hand against the counter. "You ain't no girl no more!" Granny whirled around, griping AJ with her eyes. "Darlin', you're a grown woman and you ain't gettin' younger."

"Granny..." AJ sighed.

"I ain't getting' no younger either," Granny said, cocking an eyebrow.

"Don't talk like that. You still got plenty of years left in you," AJ soothed.

Old age tended to do that to people. They started thinking about death and the future, wondering what was going to happen in the little time they had left. Granny was a fighter, she had a lot of spirit and enthusiasm, but too often now the whole family was seeing that energy being challenged by arthritis, bad memory, and borderline narcolepsy.

Granny turned back to the stove and flipped the chicken. This time it was browned on the outside.

"That's what I thought of my old friend Gertrude, but I got a letter just last week sayin' she keeled over," Granny said, vehemence still at the back of her throat, but muffled. "Slipped and fell. One a these days we old folks'll find a way to get revenge on gravity, show it what for, but right now we got no defense but bath railin'."

AJ removed her hat out of reverence.

"Do you want some bath railin'?" AJ asked hesitantly.

"So how much time you think I got left!" Granny berated, whirling on AJ again. "Death is commin' for me, and I don't even have no bath railin', not that I need it!"

AJ exhaled. Admittedly, talking about the death of Granny Smith was morbid, but at least it didn't involve Granny picking out lovers for AJ. There was horrible, and then there was _horrible_.

"At any rate," Granny continued. "I ain't going to be around forever, and when I go it's just going to be you, Mac, and poor little Abigail lookin' after yourselves." Granny wrung her hands. "And when it comes right down to it, ya'll are just babies to me, no matter how old you get."

"Granny, Mac and I are plenty capable!" AJ harrumphed. "We won't be alone if we got each other."

"AJ don't need no man!" Granny proclaimed, rolling her eyes. "Well just you wait. I know you. Watched you grow up from day one, and I know you'd do everything yourself if you could." Granny threw her hands to her hips again, puffing out like a disgruntled pigeon. "Well if I don't see you have somebody right. somebody to force some of the burden off your shoulders before I die, then you ain't gonna last!"

With that, Granny turned back to her cooking, discussion final.

* * *

At the dinner table, the chocolate cake was out of place, surrounded by a compliment of home country cooking that was nervously uncomfortable next to a fancy desert. The cake, however, seemed sweet and not liable to judge. It was here for a reason, and it didn't matter to the cake what its company was.

Granny had gone out of her way to set a place for AJ across from Marion. Mac sat next to him, eating in contented silence.

"So, Mr. Caldwell, what exactly does bring you out to these parts?" Granny prodded.

"Sales, mostly," Marion replied, as though it was interesting to do but boring to talk about.

"To who and for what, exactly?" Granny niggled.

"Oh, it's a pesticides deal," Marion said. "There's a big land owner out here who does a lot of corporate farming, so I'm just here for a while to talk to him."

"Oh, I bet that's Rich," Granny scowled knowingly. "That fool owns everything out here. Even tries to buy our farm from time to time! Sweet about it, but no sir!"

"How come?" Marion asked. The way he turned the phrase implied Granny had a reason, and a good one that Marion would benefit to hear.

"You know how it is!" Granny proclaimed, knowingly, as she stabbed through a piece of chicken with her fork. "You get one big head running everything, and sooner or later he forgets why he's running it! I've heard stories about that boy, Rich! Thinks that just because he owns everything he's in charge!"

"I know how that is," Marion agreed, nodding.

"Well it's fine havin' a wallet to bail you out of hard times, but when they start tellin' everyone what to do regardless of the situation, well then there ain't point in living! Then you're just numbers!" Granny ranted.

Marion appeared to give this a moment's thought, but decided not to say anything. He sighed and nodded his head sympathetically.

The table fell silent. Finances were a little tight at the moment, and the topic of money and managing the farm was a heated issue. It was why they were letting people rent rooms.

"So I suppose you know a thing or two about runnin' a farm, being familiar with pesticides and all?" Granny asked.

"I know the basics," Marion responded. "Are you thinking about trying something different this year?"

"No, no," Granny mumbled. She hesitated. Then, as coyly as she could, "Does it pay well, sales?"

"Well, it's a family wage," Marion admitted, "So I do well for just by myself."

AJ felt every muscle in her body slacken from a tension that had been building up over the whole conversation. The question was coming. Granny would have asked if Marion was single, and at that point it was going to be a social puzzle. If AJ interjected, it was going to be obvious she and Granny had already fought about it. If she said nothing, it would look like AJ couldn't talk for herself like an adult. But now it was out there. Marion was single. AJ wouldn't have to throttle her grandmother before the bathtub got her.

"Just yourself? Well shoot! Are you doing anything tonight?" Granny asked in shrill excitement. "I haven't been out on the town in ages, and as long as you promise to have me back by ten o'clock I wouldn't mind paintin' the town red with a cute boy like you!"

AJ would tell the police the bathtub strangled Granny.

Marion laughed. "Well, actually," he said, "I do have plans! There's a party tonight I was invited to. Pepper told me about it."

Marion looked to Mac to get some kind of confirmation. Mac had the look of a deer in headlights.

"Yep," Mac decided.

If AJ knew her brother, he was probably staying home. He didn't like parties. He liked Pepper, though. Pepper loved parties. AJ was having one of those far-off, unpleasant feelings, like a dream in slow motion. A common nightmare where she could see an irreversible disaster, like falling out of the sky towards the earth, but she couldn't quite tell if it was real. She got like this sometimes when it came to Pepper and Mac.

* * *

After dinner, Marion had helped put away dishes. Then he offered to help clean them as Granny bossed him and AJ around. When that was done, he followed AJ back towards their separate rooms. She could smell his cologne again. It came to her in moments - he wore it right.

"So, AJ," Marion began. Not awkward, but a bit transparent all the same. "I don't actually know my way around that well. Would you mind showing me to Pepper's place?"

AJ looked at Marion to reply, and he caught her eyes with his. A little bit of feeling went missing from AJ's fingertips, and a good number of coherent thoughts got lost too. The hallway was on the narrow side, and they were within reaching distance of one another, all alone. Suddenly she couldn't muster a response, and it only got worse as she began contemplating how stupid she'd look if she couldn't produce an an answer _right now_.

"Oh, uh. I," was the best she could do.

"I was thinking of changing shirts and leaving in a half hour, if that's alright," Marion suggested.

Another part of AJ's brain came back to the surface. The part that had to do with time, responsibility, and the fuss of changing clothes for a party.

"Oh, well," AJ began, sounding defeated, "I've got an awful lot of work to do tomorrow."

"Oh, alright," Marion replied, withering somewhat. "Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Alright!" AJ agreed, "Sorry, then. Partner!"

AJ waggled her fingers goodbye, and the two went to their private rooms. AJ immediately felt regret. What the heck? Why did she call him partner? Well, she called a lot of people partner. Marion didn't know that, though. He'd think she was silly. No, more important than that, she turned Marion down for a party. Why'd she do that? That wasn't friendly. She'd have shown a friend to the party, even though AJ didn't like them much more than her brother did.

AJ had half a mind to put on some nicer clothes, go to Marion's room, and catch him before he left. Maybe they could leave the party early. If he didn't like the party. AJ did have chores to do. She could stay up, though. It was because of Granny! If she went to a party with Marion now Granny would give AJ such an "I told you so" lecture. Now AJ was mad at Granny!

No, this was stupid. AJ was still mad at Granny, of course, but she had a lot of work to do and never enough time to do it. Bed. Bed was important. AJ disrobed and laid down, pulling the covers over her head. She'd worked a lot today, and it wasn't long before sleep took over.

* * *

Rochelle loved parties. Not Pepper's parties necessarily, but Rochelle loved any excuse to put on make up and get dressed up. The make up itself was a kind of artwork. It was about shadows and highlighting, about having a keen eye for details and a steady hand. Being good at make up wasn't just a display of superficial beauty, but more implicitly, a display of natural talent with colors and emotion.

Clothing was the same way, and Rochelle would know. She made a living making clothing. A lot of women were tempted to throw on a short skirt, to attract men in the most banal of ways, but Rochelle dressed to impress. Clothing could accentuate the body in a lot of different manners – men liked sex, but respect was loftier and carried more weight. Not just men paid attention to clothing either.

Knowing how to dress and how to look was a question of one's society and place. Sometimes Rochelle didn't hit her mark exactly on the head, but no one got noticed for not experimenting with new ideas every now and then. People forgave the infrequent fashion mistake as long as the tried and true methods stayed charming.

At Pepper's parties, the tried methods were usually best. Everyone knew each other in a small town, so shaking things up didn't do much. The drinks came in a plastic cup. It wasn't even an option to chat with the bar tender.

"Rochelle!"

A fiery, red-headed ball of energy was working it's way across the room, tickling guests and laughing the whole way. Pepper. Oh, Pepper meant well. Everyone liked Pepper, but nobody liked Pepper for long stretches of time. Nobody except for her boyfriend, maybe, but that relationship was still on the young side.

"Rochelle, you silly! Watch'ya doin'?" Pepper shouted over the music as she pulled her friend into a one-sided hug.

Rochelle groaned at the invasion of her private space, which only encouraged Pepper to kiss Rochelle on the cheek.

"It's good to see you, Pepper," Rochelle admitted. It was true. Pepper's friendship was a mixed blessing.

"I've got someone for you to meeet!" Pepper sang.

"You've already introduced me to the mailman twice, Pepper," Rochelle complained.

"The second time was just because you hadn't talked in a while and Stan was feeling a little down," Pepper explained. "He likes you! You're pretty!"

Rochelle sighed, but couldn't stop herself from smiling. When Pepper gave compliments, they were hard not to believe.

"Okay, okay, introduce me," Rochelle conceded.

Pepper led Rochelle upstairs, where she intercepted an unfamiliar face. It was a man in your standard attire for a non-formal social gathering. Nice shirt, but off the rack. The slacks, too, were fairly typical. His shoes were nice, but could have done with a shine. Rochelle guessed he worked a management position of some sort. Handsome, though.

"Rochelle, this is Marion! Marion, this is Rochelle!" Pepper assisted.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Rochelle pronounced with practiced etiquette.

Marion smiled and nodded, shaking Rochelle's hand. He'd probably been introduced to a number of people by now and was running out of storage space for names and faces. That simply wouldn't do for Rochelle. She liked to be remembered. So without another word, she looked the man right in the eyes and brushed past him into the crowd, swinging her hips as she went, as if she had somewhere to be. She'd find someone else to talk to, anyway. The important thing was first impressions!

As she got further away, she was tempted to look over her shoulder to see his reaction. It wasn't a good idea. It would ruin the image. But maybe a coy little smile and an inviting glint in the eye wouldn't go amiss. She turned her head, but Marion was already being introduced to someone else and he wasn't watching.

Rochelle stumbled into someone and spilled a drink to the floor.

"Oh, sorry!" Rochelle cried, clutching the shoulder of the man she'd bumped into. The two engaged in an awkward dance to see who would bend down and recover the cup.

Oh well. Aside from being in bad form, she supposed they recommended not looking back during an alluring charade due to practical reasons as well.


End file.
